A Wednesday Death
by BluePhyre
Summary: It was a Wednesday. A Wednesday that Albus was scheduled to visit. And then, it was a Wednesday, several months later. Albus would not visit. He never would... Never again. It was death. And he was glad. Grindeldore and McGonnadore :


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter... Sigh.**

Hey. :) I've begun writing a bunch of oneshots for Harry Potter, including two Drarry fics, which you can see on my profile. This is, of course, a study of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, as well as McGonagall. Great love triangle, in my mind. This takes a bit of dramatic reading to make it sound as good as I hoped for it to be, so imagine it in your head. Or mouth the words...? xD That always helps me grasp the dramatics of something better. Thanks, and have fun reading! ;D

-

-

-

It was a Wednesday. By calculation, and it was a very difficult calculation, today would be the day of Albus' next visit. It ad taken Gellert a mighty long time - mostly because of the lengthy time _between_ visits, he said - to figure it out. Only after two years had he discovered the pattern, for each date he had marked on the walls of what would eventually become his grave, though he hadn't let Albus know that he had at all. Paying attention to those sort of things usually meant that one Cared. And Gellert… Gellert refused to care. After all, Albs was the one who had _put_ him in this place… This solitary jail only for himself. Albus had said that it was for his own good, to be here. If he had been put in Azkaban, he would have gone insane, and if he wasn't in Azkaban, he surely would have been killed. But Gellert argued otherwise in Albus' presence. He argued _everything_ in Albus' presence.

Today, he was expecting lemon drops as well as Albus. That schedule - the little gifts that were always brought with the man's visits - had been even harder to figure out. But he had, as well, after four years and two hundred and sixty-seven days. Today, this Wednesday, it was to be lemon drops. Those were Albus' favorite, though, personally, Gellert liked licorice snaps better, but…

The sun had almost set on the Wednesday. A Wednesday that Albus was supposed to visit… A Wednesday that Gellert had anticipated. A Wednesday Albus _had_ to visit. And Gellert was upset. He was _supposed_ to be there! He had abandoned him… Left him, forgotten where he had damned him to.

And then, in the faint darkness that was twilight, there was a pop. Gellert tensed, ready to seem nonchalant… Nonchalant and not upset. He couldn't let Albus know that he cared.

But it wasn't Albus that walked into the small jail, nor was it Albus that approached his cell - the only cell - and stared down on him as if he were a caged animal in a zoo. Instead, it was a woman of old age, many wrinkles, and strict spectacles that hit eyes shining with a spark that meant business. He had seen this woman once before, a long time ago. She had been young, pretty, and standing at Albus' side, fawning over him as if he was a rock star… Right before their final duel. She had been chosen by Albus himself as his second. That infantile, inexperienced thing. Why he had brought _her_, and why she was in here now, was a despicable mystery to Gellert.

"I don't know why," the woman said, as if she had read her mind - and also as if she was resisting the urge to spit on the man before her - "but Albus took kindly to you after your duel, and as his Deputy Headmistress and his most trusted confidant, I personally found it as my duty to take care of his affairs after…" She took a moment to pause and recollect herself, for her eyes had grown teary and her voice had strayed to shakiness. "There's no easy way to say this," the woman sighed, abandoning her former sentence, "but Albus is dead; killed by a Death Eater by the name of Severus Snape… Killed by a man he believed to be on his side."

Gellert did not speak. Albus was dead. He had been betrayed by one he trusted… just as Gellert himself had been. What karma Albus had, he told himself. He had gotten exactly what he deserved, surely, for turning against his best friend… For replacing him with the likes of a woman like this… this fiend standing before him.

Albus, the one who had visited him every year since his incarceration… Albus, the one who had written him letters every week… Albus, who had brought him candied pineapples and a turkey each Christmas… Albus, who shivered a shuddered in that cold prison with him every holiday imaginable… Albus, who had tried so hard for his forgiveness… Albus, who had never been told that the forgiveness that he had so desperately tried for had been granted the moment he stepped foot in the Nurmengard… Albus, who didn't have to _ask_ forgiveness… Albus, whose sister died at his hand…

Yes, that Albus deserved the death. He did… He had to…

Gellert did not give a reply, and the stern woman did not ask for one. She only stood, glancing down upon the wizard who had once been the most powerful in the world. A similar sense of grief reflected in their hearts, though neither of them were the type to show it. Both had been a best friend to man. One had loved, the other had been loved. Both had lost so much… But one had more. One had hope. One would not leave. Both… would never be the same.

"I pity you," the woman said through the silence. "You have nothing. Albus didn't want that; he didn't want you to have nothing because of what he's done." She took a deep breath and shuddered as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small velvet bag. Releasing the drawstrings, she pulled something old, rusted, dirty, and just as forgotten as Gellert himself out of it. A single brass key that shone with the same malice as the bars holding Gellert in. "I don't want him to regret. I will bear the regret before he does… I will be the one to feel that pain. He's felt so much more; he doesn't deserve this burden as well."

She slowly approached the cell, fingering the brass key. Slowly, as Gellert watched with wide eyes, she disengaged the lock, swinging the gate wide open. And then, the woman stepped aside, placing a small package on the ground. She turned, and without another word, she left, walking evenly out of the door, down the stairs, and out of the Nurmengard. Gellert watched her leave, his mind racing.

Albus had still cared enough for it? To free him from this abandoned prison at the time of his death? Why hadn't he done it before? And the parcel.. Gelllert opened the package, slowly peeling brown paper off of the rectangular box. And inside… inside was his old wand. Not the Elder Wand, but the one he had possessed in his youth, the wand he had killed Arianna with… The one he had left behind.

He was free. He had a wand. He could return to power. He could fight… He could murder Voldemort and his pathetic lackey who had killed Albus. But he didn't want to… His life was over. His role in history had been filled. Gellert Grindelwald was only second-best, only a memory. Now that Albus was gone, was he even a memory? How could he be? Albus had immortalized him. He had kept him in the mind of others and in his own. And now that that was gone… He didn't want any of it.

Gellert made his way to the door of his cage, open and inviting. The key was still in there. A decision. This was it. He pulled the gate closed, turned the key, and tugged it out. Then, with heavy steps, he went to the small window in his cell and looked down below. He stuck his hand with the key in it… And let go. As it fell to the ground below, glinting insults and mockery, the woman watched, standing in the exit. This was his forgiveness of Albus, his own repentance… This was Gellert's surrender.

And it was. Months later - he wasn't sure how long, for the marks in his wall slowly disappeared from his mind. They no longer mattered, just like himself - on a Wednesday, another visitor had come… The one that was responsible for his Albus' death. And he threatened the same. Gellert didn't say it, but he wanted it… He wanted it badly. He wanted to be his old… He wanted to see Albus, to tell him he was forgiven. He wanted to apologize to Arianna. He wanted to erase everything he had done, finally… And then, Gellert Grindelwald, the second-most powerful Dark Wizard in all of history, was dead. But Gellert, only Gellert, had been dead for a long time. At last, here was his release… His surrender.

And, as those red eyes shined with the joy of death, as Gellert felt himself journey into the beyond, he smiled.

-

-

-

Alright. Well, that was fun. Actually, really depressing. But all the same, fun. I always imagined Gellert as being more of a caring soul than Voldemort. In fact, living the rest of his life in the Nurmengard... Well, I imagine he'd have a reprise of judgement. Also, if Dumbledore loved him, then he must have been better. Well, that's just my opinion. I want to hear yours! REVIEW! And see ya! ;D


End file.
